


We had a bondage moment

by wolfsan11



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Attempted Kidnapping, Gen, Human Sacrifice, Humor, Light Bondage, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Situational Humiliation, not as bad as it sounds, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsan11/pseuds/wolfsan11
Summary: Lance’s words are pitched high and squeaky when he finally speaks. “What – dude, what are you wearing?”Keith’s face burns as he tries not to squirm under their sudden scrutiny. “Nothing!”“Yeah, I’ll say,” Hunk mumbles from somewhere next to Shiro, who still hasn’t pulled his jaw back in order.--In which Keith is the unfortunate victim of a race of warrior aliens, who want nothing more than to appreciate his... natural gifts.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), pre-Sheith - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 277





	We had a bondage moment

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the Keith Pin Up Zine! Thank you all so much for supporting this wonderful and I hope you all enjoyed the almost nekkid Keiths :))))) 
> 
> no Keiths were harmed in the writing of this fic. also, fun fact, 150/397 lovely poll voters are responsible for the title

There’s a certain element of risk when you’re a Paladin of Voltron, travelling through galaxies and visiting worlds people can only begin to imagine. In Keith’s experience, their line of work is often dangerous and unpleasant. Each of them has seen their fair share of weird, and getting captured is surprisingly common.

This, though?

This is just downright  _ mortifying _ .

Ropes dig into his wrists, holding him captive on his knees, at the foot of some kind of stone altar. The cold air nips at every bit of him that’s exposed, and he can only pray that he doesn’t die of embarrassment when the Paladins come for him.

Relatively speaking, it’s not so bad, but...

The clothes he’s been forced into are just a lot more  _ provocative _ than anything Keith usually wears.

He takes another glance at the outfit the aliens have put him in and tries not to cringe. The piece of sheer black fabric that barely covers his ass is stupidly impractical and leaves his legs and thighs terribly bare. His shoulders are decorated with heavy epaulettes, elaborately designed, with gold scales overlapping each other, and the dress itself cinches in at his waist. That would almost be comforting if not for the way it billows out everywhere else.

Last of all are the delicate decorative chains wrapped around his neck, one looped snug to his throat while the rest hang loose, leaving cool lines against his back – because to add insult to injury, these aliens  _ had _ to dress him up in something with a deep scoop in the back.

He knows they’ve messed with his hair too, tousled it and done him up with make-up in preparation for this ceremony of theirs. Every tug at the ropes has proven hopeless, the knots holding strong and refusing to unravel.

There’s a clap of hands and the dimmed lights overhead brighten all at once, stinging his eyes and illuminating the gloomy room. Keith glares as the aliens – the Ravari, they call themselves – enter the hall and begin to line up along the path from the entrance to the altar. They’re a tall, red-skinned folk; built stout and muscled for the most part. They’re dressed in ritualistic wear that would appear fit for battle if not for how much skin it bares.

Their queen appears in the doorway, resplendent in a finer version of the aliens’ warrior garb. Her skin glows a deep, ruby red, and she holds twin blades in her hands, hilts jewel-encrusted and edges sharpened to a flawless shine.

As she nears the altar, Keith exhales quietly and recalls how he’d gotten into this mess in the first place.

Ravar, a planet of warrior folk who prided themselves for their skill in combat, had been in search of a suitable tribute for their annual rites of strength. Keith had missed most of the details over the diplomatic dinner but from what he'd understood, it involved the sacrifice of a ‘strong and beautiful’ warrior of their choice.

Judging by the way they’d literally kidnapped him from his room, tied him, and dolled him up here...that tribute would be  _ him _ .

He doesn’t know if he should be flattered or not, but the glint in the eyes of the approaching queen makes that decision for him.

_ Remind me to never join the team on diplomatic missions ever again _ , Keith thinks sourly to himself.

The Paladins would still be sleeping after their earlier battle against a fleet of Galra cruisers bent on conquering Ravar. The Ravari had thrown them a banquet in gratitude, plying them with food and drinks. For all he knows the team could be out cold, put to sleep to enable this ritual to go on uninterrupted. But surely somebody would wake up and stumble into his room by chance and see he was missing and...

Oh, who was he kidding? He was doomed.

_ Don’t let them know you’re scared _ , he tells himself fiercely. Not that any of the aliens would care. From the excited whispers bouncing around the room, this is supposed to be some kind of great honour.

Then the Queen begins speaking and everyone goes silent. Keith lifts his chin higher to meet her gaze square on.

“Paladin,” the Queen says, voice deep and throaty. “You have been chosen for a most envied position tonight, as the tribute of our annual rites. Bearing centuries of history—”

“Hey, uh, somehow I don’t feel very honoured to be sacrificed for some ancient ritualistic purpose, if it’s all the same to you,” Keith says, and the collective gasp that rises from all around the room at that has him rolling his eyes. So dramatic. His knees are killing him at this point, so he tugs at the ropes again and raises a brow at the Queen, who looks at him as though he’d just spat at her feet.

“You can let me go and we can sort this out peacefully. Or we can do this the hard way,” Keith says, far more coolly than he’s feeling, wondering if he’s not just putting his foot in his mouth. It’s not like he can do much at the moment, but  _ they _ don’t have to know that.

The silence stretches on and on till the breaking point when—

The Queen beams, a wide smile that would make her look rather pleasant if not for the context of the situation. Keith blinks.

She turns away from him abruptly, raising her blades high above her head.

“The tribute is beautiful  _ and  _ outspoken!” She exclaims. “A fiery one indeed! Bring the sacred oil; light the fire in Hepta’s honour!”

The crowd roars in approval and young Ravari begin to dance in time with some rather eerie music coming from a small group of instrumentalists to the side of the altar. The cacophony of the instruments and the aliens’ voices grow louder in an echoed chant, the language foreign to Keith’s ears. The Queen sways along to it, clearly delighted by how well the night is going.

If he weren’t tied up, Keith would have slapped his hand to his face in defeat.

“ _Psst_! Keith!”

The familiar voice has him turning hopefully, craning his neck back to search for the source. The back of the hall is draped in shadows; the lights having been strategically placed to focus on the altar. Keith squints through the gloom and finds a small hidden entrance there, an unused side door which seems to have been forced open. Clearly, the crazy strong aliens of this warrior planet have very few concerns about their security.

Leaning in through the doorway, Keith spots a huddle of people blending into the dark as well as they can. One of them sticks their head out and “ _ pssts _ ” again until they realise they already have his attention. The person begins to creep closer, painfully slow, like they think they’re some kind of ninja. Keith is willing to bet his blade it’s Lance and wishes he could throw something at him. He yanks at the ropes as a test, then sighs and settles in for the wait.

A minute later, Lance reaches him and “ _ pssts _ ” again.

“Stop pssting, I can see you,” Keith grumbles. Lance’s expression goes flat.

“Some way to thank your hero. Maybe I should leave you right here, let the Ravari eat you or whatever the heck they’re trying to do.”

Keith’s just glad the Ravari seem too dumb and, just as likely, too drunk to keep a proper eye on him. It gives him time to reign in the yell and expletives he wants to let loose.

“It’s some kind of ceremony and they want to throw me into the giant fire they’re building over there,” Keith says, jerking his head at a growing pile of wood at the front of the hall. He pauses and throws in a quick disclaimer of, “I think.”

Lance whistles. “Pissed them off bad, huh?”

“I didn’t do  _ anything _ —”

“ _ Lance!” _

They both jump at the new voice that joins them. There’s a quiet shuffle of bodies and suddenly the remaining Paladins are gathered next to Lance, hiding as best as they can in the shadow provided by the altar, also known as the avenue of Keith’s embarrassing death. Keith hears his wolf whine somewhere in the mash of bodies and lets himself entertain the hope that rescue could be just one flash of teleportation away.

“You were supposed to cut him loose, not  _ chat _ with him,” Pidge snaps. Allura crouches beside her, keeping a look out to ensure no one spots them. They’re both freshly roused from sleep and unhappy for it, but it’s a huge relief to see them. Keith figures if there’s anyone who won’t give him shit for his predicament, it’ll be them. Right?

“Keith, are you okay?” That’s Shiro, sharp and concerned, eyes scanning him over to check for injuries.

Keith sees the exact moment when realization hits as Shiro goes stock still. His gaze sweeps over Keith’s body again. Up, then down, then up again, like a printer moving to print out text on both sides of the paper except there’s no paper and the printer is malfunctioning and Shiro’s jaw is dropping as he lets out a strangled sound and—

Yeah, Keith wishes the ground would swallow him up right about now.

The others notice soon after and they go dead silent.

Lance’s words are pitched high and squeaky when he finally speaks. “What – dude, what are you  _ wearing _ ?”

Keith’s face burns as he tries not to squirm under their sudden scrutiny. “Nothing!”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Hunk mumbles from somewhere next to Shiro, who still hasn’t pulled his jaw back in order.

“I think Keith looks nice,” Allura announces and everyone turns to stare at her, Keith included.

“I’d look  _ tons  _ better in those clothes,” Lance says quickly, and everyone ignores him in favour of turning back around to stare at Keith, whose neck is beginning to ache, what with all the craning he’s doing.

“Okay. Thanks, Allura. Also, you _wish_ , Lance. Now shut up and get me out of these ropes!” he hisses desperately, hoping maybe that’ll make them get over it quicker.

“Right,” Shiro says faintly, then visibly shakes himself, eyes quitting the printer application to stay firmly on Keith’s face. “Right! Team, let’s figure out a way to get Keith untied and get off this planet without drawing the Ravari’s wrath.”

“You may want to hurry,” Allura whispers to them, still watching over the ceremonial preparations. “The Ravari hold great value to their culture. They’re almost ready for him, so let’s be quick and leave before they notice. You do  _ not _ want to see them when they’re upset.”

Keith turns back to look at the Ravari as the chant of their voices rise ever higher. The pile of wood is much larger now and there’s a ring of barrels around it, presumably containing water to control the fire when it’s lit. The Queen looks tiny as she stands with her back to it, holding an ornate lantern in her hands. She tosses the lantern over her shoulder and onto the wood, cackling like a maniac as the fire bursts to life with a roar.

“Hm. We certainly wouldn’t want that,” Keith mumbles.

Shiro slips up onto the altar beside him. He uses his arm to slice at the ropes binding Keith’s ankles. Keith grunts and lets Shiro help him up, stumbling into him from the pins and needles in his legs. He sags against him in relief at the comfort of someone familiar. It elicits an odd noise from Shiro, but he doesn’t say anything. There’s still a large knot of rope left on Keith’s wrists, and Shiro grips his hands gently to hold him steady.

“I’ll just untie these. Don’t want to risk hurting you.”

Keith nods and shifts uncomfortably on his numb feet, willing himself to feel less... _ naked _ , as Shiro works at the rope. Judging by the way no one can look him in the eye, they’re all willing for the same.

“How’d you find me anyway?” He asks, part curious, part desperate for any kind of distraction. Lance deigns to answer that, starting with a quiet snicker.

“Your giant cuddly wolf dog teleported into Shiro’s room and scared him awake. For future notice, Shiro has a very high-pitched scream.”

Shiro lets out a very scandalised gasp.

“I do  _ not _ —"

“Halt!”

They freeze at the sudden realization of how quiet it is, besides the sounds of crackling fire. Slowly, they turn to find an entire hall of Ravari glaring at them, the music and dancing long interrupted.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the Queen asks coldly, a sharp contrast to how inviting she’d been at the banquet.

“Listen, we don’t want any trouble,” Shiro says, moving to stand before Keith protectively. It’s both flattering and annoying as hell. “We’ll just take Keith here and leave and—”

“Take the tribute?! I don’t think so! Guards, seize them!”

“Paladins!” Shiro calls for them and all hell breaks loose. Most of the team don’t have their Bayards and Keith is left to watch as they intercept the guards barehanded. Hunk knocks one out easily, slamming his elbow into their gut. Pidge, cognizant enough to foresee this and being the only one with her Bayard on hand, winds her way through several Ravari and electrocutes the lot of them.

“We’re gonna die,” Lance moans, eyeing every exit frantically. He’s managed to get his hands on a crossbow though, downing one Ravari without even glancing their way. “Why didn’t we just get Kosmo to get Keith free?!”

“I told you, they would have noticed a giant freaking wolf appear in a flash of blue li—”

“Man, we really have got to work on our sneaking—”

“Paladins!” Allura grunts, “This is not the time!”

She thwacks a Ravari with a stolen staff and sends them flying, but that just enrages them further. The team is split up and even Shiro is caught up in the mess, shoving one alien away while putting himself between them and Keith.

Keith, whose hands are still tied together by that stubborn knot.

“Hey, guys? I could help out if you’d just cut me  _ loose _ ?”

Nobody seems to hear him though, too absorbed in the fight, and Keith finally snaps.

“Fine! I’ll rescue myself, dammit!”

One short whistle brings the wolf to his side, who waits for Keith to get a fist in his fur before teleporting him a safe distance away, to the back of the hall. Keith shuts his eyes and puts all his focus into the feeling he gets when flying and fighting, every instinct in his body humming with the surge of quintessence in his veins.

His Bayard materializes as a heavy and comforting weight settling in his palm, and Keith feels calm sweep through him. He jams the Bayard between his thighs, braces his hands above them and focuses on manifesting the sword. Sure enough, the blade emerges and slices through the knot with a quiet  _ snick _ .

With a wild grin, Keith grabs his Bayard with a sure grip and surges back towards the altar.

It’s as easy as breathing to slip past Shiro and take down the Ravari surrounding him. Keith’s a hurricane unleashed with the wolf teleporting him every now and then, helping him speed through the battle. He slashes right through the Ravari’s defenses and they cry out, knocked unconscious before they know what hit them. The next wave is dealt with just as quickly and Keith slowly straightens up, panting from the abrupt exertion.

It’s nothing he can’t handle of course.

The dress is a nuisance though, getting in his way after years of being accustomed to skintight bodysuits. He grabs at the heavy epaulettes and tears them away, accidentally taking more cloth with them than he intends. His arms and shoulders are free at least, even if the remains of the dress gets dangerously close to slipping down his chest.

Several people make odd noises.  


Another Ravari dares to step up against him. He's wider and taller than the previous opponents, and hefting a sword as long as Keith's body. Keith smirks and doesn’t hesitate to charge him, leaping at him with his full fury. The Ravari rears back on his defense as their blades clash and Keith presses the advantage, not letting up for even a moment.

Somewhere in the confusion, Keith finds himself near the flames and accidentally upends one of the barrels. He yelps as he’s drenched from head to toe with cold water, shivering as it makes the dress cling uncomfortably to his skin. He flicks his head and slicks his hair back from his forehead, blinking away the drops that cling to his lashes.

His opponent seems highly distracted though, staring dumbly and letting the sword clatter from his hand. Keith immediately drops down and sweeps his leg out to bring the Ravari’s feet out from under him. He goes down, hard, and seems too dazed to get up again.

Keith turns to find the whole hall has gone silent in the wake of his fury. Half the warriors are down for the count by his hand alone. The rest of them drop their weapons when Keith eyes them in challenge.

Shiro is gaping – again – and Keith vaguely registers that the Ravari are staring too, probably in shock. Someone whistles lowly, and Keith blinks. Did that signify an admittance of defeat? A counterattack? Either way, he has no patience to spare for it. He brushes at a lock of hair hanging in his eyes and glares at them.

“Listen here,” he growls, and the makeshift battlefield grows extra silent, everyone watching him carefully. “I am not your toy or your tribute. And I am definitely not your beautiful warrior pawn thing that gets thrown into the fire or whatever!”

He pauses, daring anyone to laugh, satisfied when the silence goes unbroken. Some of the Ravari glance at each other in confusion, but no one says a word.

“Great. Now that that’s all cleared up, I’m leaving. If I ever catch wind of you kidnapping or throwing people to fires, you  _ will _ be seeing me again, in less than favourable circumstances. Understood?”

This seems to be entirely the wrong thing to say, as the Queen snaps to attention suddenly.

“We understand! No more throwing people in fires! Though, I don’t suppose we can compromise on the clothing?”

Keith blinks at her, looks down at his own attire, then shrugs. “I...I guess? Ugh! Just — stop sacrificing people and earn the strength by your own merit! Got it?”

“Understood,” the Queen says, a little too quickly. “We shall live by your words, Paladin!”

Keith squints at her suspiciously, but he’s too tired to acknowledge her any further. He’s not even self-conscious about his bared skin anymore.

“I’m outta here,” he sighs, turning to walk away. He brushes past Shiro, who hasn’t moved a muscle since the impromptu battle.

“You guys coming?” Keith calls out, when none of the other Paladins move either. The wolf teleports to Keith's side and the team scramble to follow him, unusually quiet and compliant. Their faces are pink, though they don’t seem particularly winded by the battle, short as it was.

“Allura, I thought you said we wouldn’t want to see them upset. They seemed pretty fine to me!” Lance complains.

Allura clears her throat nervously, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “I may have misunderstood the, er, implications to their...ceremony, and what their reaction might...entail.”

“They thought Keith was hot and they wanted to get off to him,” Pidge says bluntly.

Shiro lets out a violent cough that turns into a wheeze. Keith freezes on the spot.

“Pidge!”  


Pidge just shrugs, like she doesn't care that her teammate is a second away from having his brain melt.

“I'm. What? But. T-the flames—” Keith stutters, mind going blank.

“Misunderstanding,” Pidge says cooly, re-adjusting her glasses on her nose. “If you’d been listening at the banquet, you’d know that the Ravari’s annual rites of strength involve tying up a beautiful, strong warrior to represent their virility, as well as sacrificing material items to their Goddess Hepta – Goddess of strength and erotic love, by the way – before every participant mutually partakes in the carnal pleasures of the body.”

Silence. Then, a burst of voices.

“Hold up, are you saying—”

“They were going to do  _ what—” _

“So that’s why they were all so—”

“You’re not seriously suggesting this was all just a precursor to a grand org—”

“Okay!” Keith announces loudly, knowing his face must be fire-engine red. “We are  _ never _ talking about this, ever again, on pain of horrible death!”

“But Keith,” Lance says, mockingly, “We had a  _ bondage _ moment! You were cra—”

“ _ No,”  _ Keith hisses, pointing a finger at him warningly. Lance wisely shuts up. Pidge just snickers and leads the way back to the Castle.

Upon their return, Keith burns the dress with enough enthusiasm that no one dares mention Ravar again.

And if, later, there’s a missive from Ravar to join their new ceremony of the ‘capture and daring escape of a beautiful, strong warrior’ followed by the ‘indulgences of the body’... well.

Keith may owe the team a new computer.


End file.
